Alek’s eyes opened slowly, looking around the unfamiliar room. She felt that she should start to get used to this. First the grave, then the tavern, and now… definitely somewhere. She sat slowly up from where she lay on a dark pink velvet chaise lounge, rubbing her forehead and squinting at her surroundings. She wore a shirt now, a faded red shirt—more pink than red, really—with some print that she didn’t recognise emblazoned across its front. She ran her fingers across it, feeling how her fingers caught on the stiff paint, how her short nails picked at the loosening threads.

The room was dark and mostly empty, besides the white-haired woman who leaned against the far wall. She looked more like a skeleton than a human, with thin skin pulled over her frame, gaunt cheeks, and bloodshot golden eyes. Much to Val’s entertainment, a soft swear made its way out of Alek.

The ghost of a woman trailed over, her movement lethargic like a long, stringy street cat. Strangely powerful in her indifference. She kneeled before the likely corpse, the one who forgot that she was meant to be dead. Her brow furrowed in what appeared to be concern, despite the fact that she had no reason to be. They barely knew each other.

“You’re awake, Cooper?” She asked gently, as if any loud noise would spook the younger woman. “Or Alek now, I suppose. Are you alright?”

Alek’s head pounded, and her throat burned brighter than the sun. Her stomach threatened to escape through her throat and choke her for all she was worth. She grumbled, “I’m fine. Where’s Raelyn?”

“With Ellys, we’ll meet back up later. Now, would you like a drink?” From her pocket, Val produced a silver flask. A well-adorned hip flask that sloshed as she held it out. When it was not immediately taken, she shook it as if to prove a point. “Well?”

“I don’t drink.”

Val sniffed in disdain. “You passed out, you need to.”

They stared at each other, Val huffing before taking a long swig from the flask. Her lips were wine red where they wrapped around the narrow opening, and her throat bobbed.

“Drink,” she demanded, holding out that damned flask once more.

Alek stood up now, unfurling to her full height on wobbling deer legs. She pushed the flask to one side with a grunt. “I’m good. What the hell is this?”

Val tilted her head to one side, regarding her with honey-coloured eyes. Liquid gold. Her stare dragged itself from Alek’s eyes, scanning her face with languid curiosity. A hand found its way bunched up in Alek’s shirt, and she found herself being dragged forward. Lips crashed together, testing, then released with a disappointed sigh.

“You’re not her.”

Alek blinked. She wiped at her lips with the back of her hand and stared. She locked her gaze on the woman she’d barely spoken with, whose last name she didn’t even know if she had one. Stared with such precision, it was a marvel that she hadn’t drilled holes into the smaller woman with her look alone.

“Val,” she said, voice small and caught in her throat. Lips thick with the taste of mouth and metal. “What. The. Hell.”

A pale hand cupped Alek’s cheek, thumb rubbing against cheekbones. She startled at the icy fingers, hating that she felt any comfort in the action. If she had only been raised gently, with care, she may not have.

Val’s chapped lips curled into a whisper of a smile, patting Alek’s cheek lightly before she finally stepped away. “Don’t you worry about an old woman, kid.”

It was worth noting that Val could be somewhere in her thirties.

“I-” Whatever Alek wanted to say, it died on her tongue before the thought had time to form.

The door opened with a cautious creak, then all the way. Alek barely registered it, still glued to Val. It was only when the footsteps neared - two sets, one heavy one padding - came near. Raelyn closed the gap, rushing over and dragging Alek into a tight hug. Alek, hanging limply against her until her release, hands still clamped around her wide biceps. Brown eyes bore into her, a mixture of concern and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Doubt, wariness, and distrust.

“What happened out there?” said Raelyn, barely above a whisper. She spared a glance at Val who, like an adult, pretended to vomit off to the side before keenly looking over Alek for any cuts or scrapes she might have left. “Did I hurt you?”

Alek swallowed. “I’m fine. Can we get out of here?” It was rougher than intended, more so than she had been with Val. She swallowed again. “Please?”

Fingers ran their way down her cheek, tracing her scars and pressing on a swollen lump of flesh beneath her eye. Despite her discomfort, Raelyn didn’t let up, finding new masses of split skin and discoloured patches that has already formed at an alarming rate.

Alek wanted to cry. Not for the pain, not for the pang of loss either, but for another third, secret thing. Before that very real threat could happen, Raelyn pulled her hands away, the cool air already biting her warmed face.

“Let’s get you back then,” said Raelyn softly, “then we can talk?”

“Yes. Sure, of course.” Whatever got Alek out sooner.

The trek back was a short one. Ellys had (thankfully) not wound them around the city this time, though not from a lack of trying. Val had kept a steady hand on the young dwarf’s shoulder as she yapped on about the fight the other two women had, recounting the fight as if Raelyn and Alek hadn’t been there at all and deftly dodging each question about her whereabouts.

Alek could feel Raelyn staring at her. She didn’t want to look, but she knew. She didn’t know how Raelyn felt, but she wanted to make amends somehow. Whatever happened back at The Pit, it wasn’t her. She was a Templar of Omera, those types of actions were beneath her and yet she acted lowlier than a caged animal, worse than the cub she was named. Raelyn had been soft on her, overall, if she had acted out in her squadron Mycah would have been forced to finally put her down for good.

When she, at last, looked back, Raelyn’s face furrowed in concentration, her gaze on the road rather than the world before her. Alek could feel a sharp pang of something in her chest, but whether it was regret, sadness, or guilt, she wasn’t sure. She sighed and turned her gaze back in front of her again, only vaguely tuning back into Ellys talking about the fight again. It was a marvel how much she could say about the short fight, but Alek could barely focus. She was certain she had messed up with one of her closest friends; how couldn’t she? And she had no idea how to fix it—if she could even fix it.

She was a murderer. That’s the truth of the matter. It was a truth that she had forced to the back of her mind, but it didn’t make it any less real. Whatever was happening to her, it made her dangerous. She could have hurt Raelyn. Badly. She needed to pull herself together; she was trained to be better than this, for crying out loud.

“Cooper? You coming in?” Ellys’ voice cut through Alek’s thoughts. Alek broke out of her mental spiralling to find that she was standing in front of the Frostbeard home, with Ellys standing in the doorway and Raelyn already inside.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming” she nodded, following the redhead inside.

They were shown to a room where they could stay, to find Finn making himself at home on one of the roll-up beds that the Frostbeards had let the three of them borrow. Raelyn barely gave her a second look, and the times she did glance at Alek she looked conflicted, and it couldn’t have been only due to Alek suddenly being good at fighting. No, not after her display in the Pit.

“How did it go?” asked Finn, voice low and crackly with sleep. Crackly like the fire in his blood, his inheritance. A strangely comforting tone from the near stranger. “You’re both alive, I see. Is Ellys…?”

Alek rolled her eyes. “Ellys is alive, yeah.”

Finn grunted, assumedly in approval.

She lay down on top of her borrowed bed, pulling the scratchy blanket up around her shoulders. The ceiling was filled with cracks that mirrored her own scarring, small connecting lines creating a constellation of broken pieces. Her eyes were weighed down by the events of the day, despite the fact that she had already slept not too long ago.

The door denting the wall rudely awakened her. Metal scraped as armoured figures poured inside, swords clanking against their shields. Alek sat up sharply, the blanket held up tightly against her chest. Finn had jumped to his feet, hands held out before him, slightly curled. Raelyn looked around groggily at the intrusion, before getting up herself and brandishing the knife she kept in her metal hand.

Three heavily armoured guards stood in the doorway, brandishing weapons. The one in front, presumably their leader, pulled off their helmet, revealing a scarred woman in her mid-fifties, with long dull blonde hair that fell down around her shoulders. Besides her, a white-haired dwarf emerged, pointing a stubby finger at Alek. Braxton Frostbeard.

“That’s the one,” said the old man, voice sharp and low. “She’s the one who killed Scout Williams.”

Somewhere to her left, Finn growled, stepping in front of her. Alek scampered to her feet. She had no weapon, and no way out, but she wasn’t going to let Finn - a man who didn’t pay her any attention outside of orders - to take the fall for her.

“Do you have proof of this?” came Raelyn’s voice, tired but still commanding. She looked at Alek as if wanting to hear her side, but they didn’t have the time.

“Mr Frostbeard witnessed the crime” the guard leader stepped forward, hand on the hilt of her sword.

“Not one more step,” warned Finn. His hands glowed a soft yellow, the air around him heating.

“It’s one of those bloody fire wielders,” one of the other guards commented. The guard leader nodded and unsheathed her sword.

Alek lunged forward, but she wasn’t fast enough. A jet of white-hot flame burst from Finn’s hands, eating away at the guards and the room. They were like dry tinder, metal turning liquid. Alek could feel her skin blister at the heat as she shielded herself with her arms. She felt a tug and turned to watch Raelyn throw the roll-up beds out the window before diving out.

“Finn, come on!” said Alek hurriedly, before following Raelyn’s lead.

The trio landed on the beds outside, which barely did anything to cushion their fall, only to be greeted by a dozen more guards. Raelyn made a sound of discomfort before raising her hands in surrender, Alek copying.

“This is fine, yeah?” she whispered to Alek, a look of hope written across her face. “They’re going to find that you’re innocent.”

Alek didn’t reply.

“Coop? You didn’t kill her, right? Oh, Gods please tell me you didn’t.”

Alek couldn’t lie to her.

She dragged her feet towards the guards, trying to ignore the betrayed expression on her friend’s face, and lowered herself to the ground.